Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Originally Uploaded here by junku

The fact that I made it through yesterday bends space and time around it, like a bowling ball from a missed birthday party upon a mattress as metaphor for the reason behind gravitational effects. My eyes closed sometime around 4 am: I had less than four hours of sleep the previous night, again playing the same tune of twice as much work as rest.

I found myself lying on the floor of my parents' basement, asking for a glass of white that I spotted in the fridge from my floor vantage point. Back and forth, west van to east, there and back, there and back, crossing the entire city left to right and back a total of four times throughout the day. In the middle, work obviously, but also a gathering of my father's old friends.

I'm looking and listening to David, 35 years ago, spitting image. He's you.

I really like my father's friends, they fill the first role of surrogate family. Ruth saw me as a baby, and was the first person other than my biological to call herself my mother. We chatted over more wine, and the group of us chatted aristocrat-style, faces reddening from more and more wine surrounded by two-tone plates and expensive flooring. There were even points where all Bob could do was laugh. We get along marvelously, so I guess I really am my father, even though I wear my mother's skin and sensabilities. Thankfully while not directing traffic. This was, of course, a joke.

I opened my eyes and the time read afternoon and I balked. I don't even remember the last time that happened.

My french-travelling sister has been writing me of castles and myth made real. I'm glad she is doing well but wish she was here sometimes, so she could see the look in my eyes and the strange lack of madness. She would look and see nothing but far too reasonable sadness. I still seem to have lost my ability to cause things to burn with all-consuming passion, and I don't think I regret that particular change. The characters in the love stories I have been writing for so long are never happy; star-crossed lovers always end up dead or miserable. I don't want to be them anymore.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Hieroglyphics - Full Circle (full album)